


We'll Never Sleep (God Knows We'll Try)

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9178177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: They steal moments where they can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know writing fic for a show that's been off the air for like, six years is an exercise in futility but alas, I only discovered this show recently.
> 
> Title from the Rilo Kiley song of the same name.

They steal moments where they can.

There’s one elevator that hasn’t had a working surveillance camera since the month after Don transferred to the office, and the bite of the handrail against Charlie’s back, cold unyielding metal soaking through the fabric of his t-shirt, is as familiar a touch as Don’s hands on his waist, the _ding ding ding_  of the elevator a metronomic counterpoint to the rapid beat of his heart as Don presses against him, mouth hot and greedy against his neck, along the curve of his jaw.

(When he steps out of the shower the next morning there are bruises on his back, purple just above his hips, and Charlie presses his finger against one, the sweet ache blooming, radiating, until he’s dizzy with want all over again.)

The moveable blackboard in Charlie’s office is a godsend, creating shadowy corners and making the room seem empty, uninviting at a cursory glance, and Charlie locks the wheels before sinking to his knees, eyes liquid and dark as he makes the most of the time between the end of his non-linear dynamics class and the beginning of his office hours, Don’s head knocking back as his eyes flutter shut.

(When he strips down for bed that night, Don discovers chalk dust smeared against the fabric of his boxer-briefs, stark white against navy blue cotton, and he shivers, the phantom taste of it heavy on his tongue.)

It’s never enough.


End file.
